How it all starts
by MaybeThisTime221
Summary: John Watson is a med student recently invalided home from the army. He struggles with mundane, everyday things. Until a hot flash of light seems to have put an end to it all. He must struggle to continue in what seems to be a world without people, until he meets Sherlock. Apocalypse AU Impending fluff and angst to come. (reviews are appreciated!) xoxo
1. As it happens

Walking up the front of the university for seemed like the hundredth time, John Watson could practically feel the eyes of the other students burning into him as they carried their cases away from the school. Excited for a short break. Through their excitement they still seemed to be able to allow themselves short glances towards the soldier. Ever since his return, he was regarded like an outsider. He never told anyone why he was sent back, why he had a limp or why he seemed to be constantly in the grips of a terrifying nightmare most nights. And because he had never spoken about it, rumours flew. The looks he received grew from curiosity to pity because of elaborate stories of torture and angst. He didn't care to correct them, they would never understand the truth. Today was no different than the rest. Glancing around, he made eye contact with a brunette girl, Molly. She blushed deeply and averted her eyes.

He took each step one at a time, leaning heavily on his cane. At first he hated the thing. It made him feel old and useless. Now he simply didn't care. He sighed in relief when he came to the top of the seemingly endless, uneven steps, until he heard his name being called from a distance. Awkwardly turning, he saw one Greg Lestrade pulling up in his car.

"John! John Watson!"

John stretched a false smile across his face as the older man climbed out of his vehicle.

Lestrade was one of the only people he would actually be able to call a close friend. He didn't ask about the injury or his time away. They had simply met in a pub down the street and for the first time in years, John had had a good time. He had been home only a few short weeks, still trying to get use to London again. After waking up that morning from yet another horrid dream, the rest of his day having been getting progressively worse, he made the decision to follow in his sisters footsteps for one night, and get flat out drunk. Around his third beer he realized his mistake, this wasn't helping at all and now he had to wake up from not only another terrible night, but to a hang over as well. Thats when Lestrade had walked in.

Now, months and many nights at the pub later, the 26 year old soldier finally had someone he could call a friend.

"What are you up to tonight?" Lestrade asked, bounding up the steps two at a time.

"Nothing, I suppose." John answered cautiously. It had been almost three weeks since he had heard from Lestrade. Positive he had been forgotten.

"I was wondering if you'd be up for a night at the pub?" The older man beamed at him, a warm smile etched in his face. Though through the smile, John could see something of regret in his eyes, obviously a little guilty for not being around as of late.

"I can't tonight" John lied. "I've got… a huge test in a few days and I should probably study." He cringed slightly at the obvious lie, he had always been terrible at that. He was sure Lestrade had seen through the lie, but the man simply smiled, said the predicted 'maybe next time' and proceeded to climb into his car and drive away. John watched the spot where the car had been, unaware of how long he had stood staring. When his mind logged back on, he realized all the other students had left for the break, he was one of the only ones left at the school. A blessed five days without stares and whispers, without class.

When he reached his room, he stood at the door and took in his empty room. He had developed a very plain existence in the previous months since his return. A plain, perfectly made bed was pushed up in the corner of the room. 'The Hobbit' was perched precariously on the edge of the end table, along with a week old bottle of water. Excitement at its finest.

Sighing, he made his way over to his wooden desk and pulled out his laptop. He browsed his Facebook with little interest, Karen had posted a new photo of her and some bloke named Matt. Jones was expressing his fondness for a kind of truck John had never heard of and he also discovered the word 'you' was now missing two of its letter. With something of utter disapproval, he shut the computer down and simply stared at the wall with a blank expression. He was wrong. He already missed the stares and dull classes. As if unable to comprehend the next five days, his mind wandered and he soon fell asleep at his desk. His shoulder was going to pay for that when he woke up.

o0o

_'I've got to get to her' I keep thinking. 'I've just got to get to her.' I see bodies. Countless bodies. Most of them my friends, the people I've spent the last year with. I've laughed with them, cried with them, survived with them. One specifically stops me in my tracks. My eyes grow wide and I feel them fill with tears. "No…" It can't be her. I don't hear the words that I begin slurring together as I collapse to my knees. Rolling over the female soldiers body, I feel my heart stop. Her heavy eyes shift towards me._

_"John…" _

_"Shh, its fine. You'll be fine. Everything's fine." I lie through gritted teeth. Oh god, why her, of all people, why her? I feel a sob rising in my chest as I press my hand down on the dreadful wound staining her fair skin, seeping through and covering her whole leg. She's lost so much blood. "I'm going to get you out of here." It's the least I can do. I can't just leave her. _

_"Joh… go…" She struggles. _

_"I'm not leaving you!" I scream, I can feel myself loosing control. Keeping pressure on the blood soaked area of her leg, I quickly scanned the surrounding area for the medics. I could see no one through the smoke, only the scattered limbs of those who were unfortunately out in the open when the explosions started and the surprise attack began. I aim my attention back to my wounded friend. Her eyes no longer open. "No!" I shout, feeling for a pulse. I find it, but its so weak. I can't seem to think straight, but the next thing I know I've wrapped my shirt around her bloody thigh and am crouched over ready to pick her up. _

_I sullen 'crack' fills the smoke filled air, and a burning pain shoots through my shoulder. I collapse on my side, head barely arms length away from hers. I look down to my shoulder. Blood is pumping out at a violent rate. Each heart beat of life driving me closer to death. I can't die now, not now! I've got to get up, I've got to help her!_

_"Mary…" I whisper, tears leaking out of my eyes and sliding down my cheeks. Staining them with grief. I look at Mary. Her chest is no longer moving. It doesn't take a doctor to guess her faint heart beat is now no longer existent. "No…"_ _I sob. Reaching out, I take her mud covered hand in mine. Gripping her tight as if its all I need. I hate that I'm not able to help her. To at least carry her body out, to give her the respectful death she deserves._

"_Please God, let me live" I hear myself murmur over the sounds of boots clumping on the soft ground. Eyes growing hazy, and soon everything is dark. I hear something that could have been my name. But I can't bring myself to care. The only word coursing through my mind it Mary. Mary. MARY._

o0o

"MARY!" John screams as he wakes. Toppling out of his desk chair and failing face first onto the light brown carpet. He groans into the soft fabric, not being able to will enough energy to move. As if an addition of mockery, his cane slowly slides from its leaning position and pitches forward hitting him in the back with a dull 'thump'. He almost laughs. Almost.

When the pain in his shoulder starts to become to much, he groans once more and begins to pull himself up off the ground, with sluggish movements. Looking up at the window, now on his knees, he realizes he's only been asleep for about an hour, it was still mid-day.

"Great" he mumbles towards the bright window. Now, staring at the dust specks floating through the air, his mind began running over an episode of Doctor Who he watched forever ago. He smirks at them memory of when Mary tucked under his arm as Doctor spoke of the shadows. Funny how these memories seemed so long ago.

Still lost in thought, kneeling on the floor, he didn't notice when the room seemed to grow brighter. When it was so bright, it seemed like someone was shining a spot light through his window, John snapped out of his mind and turned his head quickly towards the window, right arm shading his eyes from the blinding light. It seemed to grow brighter and brighter and he could feel a strong heat against his arm. The heat rapidly turned to burning and he dropped out of the light, shaded barely by the desk. Being cautious to not touch the light, he pulled himself into a tight ball under the desk.

A loud 'pop' filled the air and before he snapped his eyes shut all he saw was white.

After a couple seconds, he opened one eye vigilantly. There was a dull buzzing in his ears and the sun seemed to shine ever the slightest bit brighter, but other than that, everything seemed normal. Perplexed, med student slid ones hand shakily into the sun rays, disturbing dust specks as he did so. It didn't burn. '_Strange'… _he thought, as he made his was out of the creaky door of his room into the hallway. Slightly shaken, he made his way outside, pushing the door open with a hesitation. Nothing seemed out of place. And yet everything seemed... _different. _

He walked forward, taking it all in until he stumbled across something. A suit case. Looking over a few more feet, he noticed a hand bag and two or three very dark areas on the heated concrete. Crouching, he reached a hand onto the long spot. It was cool to the touch. When he looked up, thats when he noticed.

There were cars crashed against each other, bags dropped and forgotten. Dark spots littering the front parking lot of the school. Jogging up to a smoking car, John noticed a dark spot in the drivers seat. Then it hit him.

"Oh God…" He mumbled in horror, remembering the burning pain he felt when the sun had touched his skin. The flash of hot white. He managed to stumble back a few yards before being sick in a nearby garden. _'Whats happening?' _ He thought deliriously. Running a shaking hand through his hair, he turned in messy circles, taking it all in. He didn't see anyone, the only sigh of life he could sense was a dog barking in a house down the block. He ran back to the school and called out. Begging for someone to answer his shouts.

After what seemed like hours of calling through the school and through the blocks close by, he gave up and slid down the wall in the auditorium.

He was alone.

All alone.


	2. Misfortune

It was a good hour before John could bring himself to move. He allowed himself that hour to be fully afraid. To let his body tremble slightly as he watched the sun move across his feet as the day stretched on. Morbidly amused by the idea that something so giving, so beautiful, could cause so much destruction in his life -and the lives of potential others- in such a short amount of time.

Finally, the soldier hoisted himself to his feet. Steady now. Over the initial shock he let himself feel throughout that first hour. He moved mechanically towards his room, opening the door quickly. In one swift movement, he dragged the side drawer of his desk open, revealing the handgun he couldn't seem to be away from. He knew it was illegal, that he could be expelled for having it in his possession. But he didn't care. The touch of the cool metal as his fingers slid carefully over the muzzle seemed to be the only thing to calm him down sometimes when he woke up from a particularly terrible night. Even having to fall asleep with it resting in his hand, safely under his pillow.

He pick up the gun and shoved in a magazine. Unsure as to whether or not he would truly need the weapon, he slipped the gun into the back of his pants, feeling it rest on the small of his back. Shivering slightly at the familiar feeling. Breathing out a low breath, he grabbed his bag from under the best and began stuffing clothes into it, not really caring what was being put in. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this. He had nowhere to go. His phone wasn't working, and he didn't exactly have anyone to be too worried about. Both his parents where dead and his only sister wanted nothing to do with him, caring more for drinking then her brother. What did he exactly have planned? Well, he obviously couldn't stay where he was. Surrounded by black nothings, memories of people that had once had lives. The idea that perhaps these 'memories' would be found everywhere disturbed him. But still, he had to find someone else, he needed to know what the hell happened!

Lastly stuffing his extra magazines in his bag he zipped it up and took one last short look at the room that had been his home for the past while, letting his eyes drift over the cane that still rested on the floor, forgotten. Wondering whether when all this was over with, he would have the chance to return. Also wondering whether or not he really cared… Shaking his head he turned away and strode towards the stairs, and made his way to the front doors.

The sun still seemed slightly brighter as it shone high in the sky. John squinted and began down the steps two at a time, in a hurry to get far away from there at to find someone. _Anyone. _All Johns life he had not been very popular, a small group of friends, small family. Never the centre of attention. And he was fine with that. In the army he had plenty of mates, he was slightly set back by the closeness of everyone, but he soon got use to being constantly surrounded by friends. Until That day. Then he was sent home, devastated by himself. He did enjoyed the solitude. The time alone to think. But now… He never realized how utterly horrible it was to know that he couldn't just turn around and see another person, even a stranger.

After having walked for a few miles, John glanced over to his left. There was a sleek black toyota parked on the of the doors open on the passenger side. When he got closer, he noticed that there was a cooler and bags in the back. His heart sunk as he noticed the black memory at his feet, just before the cars open door. Obviously someone was packing for a trip that they now would never take. The young man took a moment to decide what to do. Making up his mind he slide into the back and rummaged through the bags, finding some food and clothes, along with a first aid kit. He placed the bag of mixed clothes on the curb and shut the door. The cars keys where on the front seat when he approached the drivers door. He opened it quickly and sat himself in the seat, throwing his bag into the passenger side.

In all honesty, he should have been very overwhelmed, and grateful to find a car with keys _and _some supplies. He was unsure of how far or even where he was going. But for now he could feel himself slipping back into a state of shock. A creeping numbing feeling was slipping into his subconscious whenever his mind tried to make sense of his current situation.

Staring past the steering wheel, John turned the keys and the car grumbled to life. Almost as if it were as reluctant to leave as John himself.

He pulled away from the curb and started slowing down the road, squinting at the sun as he drove into confusion.

o(0)o

"Sherlock!" Cried Sebastian Wilkes as he slammed on the brakes yet again. "How many fucking times do I need to say this? Shut. The. Fuck. Up!"

Sherlock slunk down in his seat and simply stared out the window. All he had said was that the girl sitting next to him was having an affair on her boyfriend, who was currently sitting in the front seat beside Wilkes. He had thought he was doing the man a favour. Jenny, the cheater, glared at him her seat in the small car. As Wilkes continued on she turned and sulked out towards the window, radiating anger.

It had been three days now since everyone at their dorm had disappeared. Three days since they had seen another living being. The four were beginning to believe they were the only ones left, they had been driving for almost 2 days straight, switching out every four hours between them.

"I can't help it that she is making it so obvious," Sherlock mumbled "a fool could have seen it."

"Oi! Are you calling me stupid!?" Growled Mike spinning in the passenger seat to glare pure fury at the young detective.

"Yes actually," Sherlock replied smugly "I'm surprised you'd noticed."

"Thats enough! Mike, it's your turn to drive." Wilkes slowed the car to a stop and got out as Mike slid into the drivers seat, only to continue glaring at Sherlock via the rear-view mirror. When Wilkes sat himself in the passenger seat, they started off again.

The rumble of the tires against the pavement and the warm evening air flowing into the car through an open window soon lulled the young detective into an unwanted sleep, though expected considering he had been awake for four days straight. Unable to sleep in front of people he didn't know, or trust in Wilkes' situation. Yet he was soon snoozing lightly, curled into himself in the back seat. Glad, deep down, that his body had finally succumb to sleep against his will.

Sherlock was being pulled out of his deep sleep by harsh whispers. Without opening his eyes he willed his mind into full awareness just as he made out the words 'or I'll shoot.' this startled his slightly. _Who could have said that… _he wondered to himself, his eyes still closed, his body in the pretence of sleep. HIs question was answered as Wilkes hit him in the leg with something hard.

"I know you're awake, freak." He growled. "Open your eyes and pay attention."

Sherlock snapped his eyes open and they made contact with Wilkes'. The other mans were filled with desperation and something else unidentifiable. Though it looked to Sherlock at that moment like madness. He was holding a shiny pistol in front of him, loosely pointed at Sherlock as he faced him. Mike was sitting in his seat, rigid as stone, looking like he couldn't decide whether or not to run. Jenny shared a similar look as she tried to make herself as small as possible beside Sherlock.''

"You lot really are useless to me, an' you" he hit Sherlock in the leg with the pistol again. "You've probably already thought about doing this you psychopath. Waiting for the first opportunity to kill us in our sleep, well I'm not letting you get the chance. I'm sick of you fucks and your fighting!"

Sherlock mentally hit himself for not seeing this ahead of time, though, to his credit his mind was a little more focused on the whole end-of-the-world topic at hand.

"Out. All of you."

They slowly opened the car doors and slipped from the vehicle silently. Not taking their eyes off Wilkes or the pistol he held low in front of him.

"Now I all want you to stand where I can see you, and don't try anything stupid, Sherlock. I can see that mind of yours working." He shoved Sherlock to where Mike and Jenny were standing and simply stared at them, almost daring one of them to do something. Anything.

Without warning he raised the pistol and shot Mike. The shocked mans life leaving him in an explosion of red mist as his body crumpled to the ground. Jenny screeched and bent down to him, sobbing his name in hysterics. Only to experience the same fate as the man she cried over.

Sherlock had seen dead bodies before. They had never shocked him before, but to see someone killed in front of him… Even a stranger… Wilkes laughed a twisted snarl and was just about to turn to Sherlock when the detective made a quick decision and started to bolt towards the trees. He heard the enraged man yell something but it was cut off by the crack of the gun and a thundering pain that cut into Sherlock just as he was about to hit the tree line.

_A/N_

_Sorry for the late update ! Thanks for reading! xoxo TBC_


	3. A meeting

The sun was slinking into the horizon in John Watson's rear-view window as he drove absentmindedly down a road he didn't recognize. It had been four long days since he had his miserable -but normal- life ripped from in front of him. Four days since he had seen any other living human being. As he drove, stray dogs, cats and other creatures passed by on their way to nowhere, he wondered why they seemed to be unaffected by that day. Houses stood empty and unused. Their dark windows ominous and sinister as if their only purpose in life was to stand and mock passing strangers of their lost happiness. Cars stopped in the middle of roads, some crashed into others. Not a soul in sight.

After driving past what he believed to be the hundredth car stopped in the middle of the road, John made the easy decision to stop for the night in an abandoned house tucked into the trees just off the main road.

Pulling up to the house he could make out a porch and a tire swing in the retreating daylight. He was so tired he didn't care to take in anymore details, he had been driving for the past 12 hours and wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep like the dead.

Killing the engine, John slipped from his vehicle, grabbing his back pack and trudged towards the house. He didn't bother to lock the door.

Another empty house for a lonely night of worry. The black windows covered by curtains, showing nothing of the interior when he squinted through the glass. Its strange how natural it felt now. To peer into someones house and to not feel guilty or such. He was wary at the start. The first night sleeping in the car he took, and that in itself had felt strange to him. He didn't sleep well and knew that he would need to find a decent place to sleep as he made his way to nowhere in particular.

The door to the old house was locked, but John made quick work or the lock and was soon standing in the front room of the empty home. Older furniture was placed about the room, old pictures of children and newer ones suggesting an older couple had once shared the home. He had seen two dark memories together on the bench beside the door but tugged his eyes away before he thought too much into it.

He had only been sleeping on sofas or the floor, it was still someones home, he felt like he was invading it in a way. So he pulled his bag over his shoulder and turned the corner into what he suspected was the living room and hopefully a warm place to sleep. What he found instead was a man.

The dark haired man was slightly curled into himself clutching his side laying on a brown fluffy sofa, he was shivering violently, like he was in the middle if a blizzard instead of a fairly warm home. John stood frozen at the entrance, staring silently at the first human being he had seen since this whole thing had started. Still in a bit of a trance as he watched the mans chest rise slowly and fall as he breathed, he shifted his weight, causing a load creak to emanate through the quiet room. His eyes snapped up and made contact with the other mans. They were grey-silver in the dim light off the room, lids half closed.

The med students eyes slide to the mans side and for the first time noticed the deep red that was drenching his shirt and spots of the precious liquid covered the floor up to the sofa. Snapping into doctor mode me strode across the room and quickly dropped beside the young man.

The other mans eyes had fallen shut again. His fringe hanging over his closed lids.

"Hello…?" John whispered quietly. Head leaning towards the injured man, who didn't answer. He gently pressed two fingers against the cool neck before him. There was a pulse, but it wasn't as strong as it should be. When he had successfully rolled the man into a position that worked for him, he began to undo the mans button up shirt that clung to his body with red. As the buttons came apart, he pealed the shirt away to reveal the wound.

John gapped at the wound. This man had been _shot_. But by who? What had happened? Does this mean there are many others? Shaking his head, he flung the thoughts away to focus on the task at hand. The bullet had merely scrapped his side, but it looked painful and had bled enough to cause some worry. The bleeding had stopped and was already mostly dry. Getting to his feet he hunted down the bathroom, grabbing around until he located a first aid kit and a few towels, wetting one of them.

Gently, he cleaned off the rusty crimson off of the mans chest and side, careful not to brush the wound just yet. When he did move onto the cut, he poured some rubbing alcohol over the newly cleaned off area. The man hissed in his unconscious state as it foamed on the open wound. John covered the area with crisp white bandages and tapped off the wrapping, making sure it would not fall off. Satisfied by the work he had done, he sat back on his heels and inspected the man in front of him.

His hair was dark and curly, a little long and sticking up in places from the sofa cushion. He was young, though not much younger than John himself. He was much taller though and had long awkward looking limbs that were now laying beside him, limp. The startling eyes still hidden and the mans breathing evened out and grew steady once more. The bloodied shirt lay beside John, beyond saving. He noticed the man was still trembling, he dove a little faster than needed into his bag and produced a thick black and white striped jumper.

Manipulating the mans lanky limbs turned out to be a more difficult task than originally thought, but after a bit of grumbled cursing and patient care, he managed to pull the jumper over the mans shivering form gently. Lastly draping a thick wool blanket over him. John was unsure of what to do next, so he sat down in an over sized arm chair, the same ugly brown colour of the sofa, and settled into what he had originally believed to be an uneventful night. His eyes drooped and he soon fell into a well deserved nap, the last thing his tired eyes seeing was the mans grey-silver eyes watching him sleepily, a small smile playing on his lips.

o(0)o

The man slumped on the chair in front of him was blond and not much older than himself. _Shaggy hair, used to be cropped short, neat, military. _Flicking his eyes down, he noticed the baggy jumper on him, and as he twisted he hissed at the slight pulling on his side. _Bandaged, clean, but inexperienced, clean hands even after all this, tidy. Going by age: meds student._ Sherlock once again focused his attention on the young man in front of him. His blond hair falling into his eyes slightly as he slept, curled up a bit in the over-sized armchair. There was sunlight coming from the curtained windows that suggested early morning. Smirking for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he started at sit up, planning on leaving the house and being on his way before his inexperienced doctor woke.

What he didn't expect was a sharp pain in his side that made him grunt and curl in on him self, cradling his side, waking the other man with a bit of a start.

"What…" the blond man started, looking around confused before his eyes fell on Sherlock, laying on the floor. He stumbled off the chair and kneeled beside Sherlock, hands hovering, not sure what to do. He concludes that retrieving pain medication will most likely be the most logical action and within a minute, he returned with a few aspirin and a warm bottle of water, all he could find without going back to the car.

"Here, take this" he mumbles, pushing the bottle into the mans right hand and plopping two pills into the left. Eyeing him cautiously, he downs them anyway. Helping the man onto the couch, John hesitates for a moment before sitting down beside him.

"so…" John starts quietly, "what happened?"

"What?"

Its the first word John has heard come from the man in front of him. He shudders at the deep tone of the mans smooth voice. Those pale eyes watching him as if he were a specimen in a petri dish. Nodding to the wound now covered by his jumper, John sits back with his knees pulled up, fully facing the man in question.

"I got shot" the man responds mockingly, as if he was talking to a six year old.

"I saw," John says "I would like to know _how_ you were shot."

"You can't deduce it? Being a military man and all." Johns brows shoot up and Sherlock feels a small smug grin slip onto his face.

"H-how…?"

Rolling his eyes Sherlock takes a deep breath and launches into it. "Your hair in shaggy in such a way that suggests a military crop-cut, the way you hold yourself, even in sleep, shows constant readiness and preparation to jump into action. Your bag is obsessively packed, neat ant tidy, also signs of past military time. You also patched me up, while not the best patch up I have received it is a good one none the less. Its text book, so you haven't had the experience to wrap up an actual human, so medical student, recently returned from war training to be an army doctor? Good luck, you were invalid back for a good reason, your physical being and posture suggests you were shot, though you don't show any signs pain or limps. Although, you do favour your left arm slightly, Shoulder injury? Probable."

John just stared at him with wide blue eyes and to Sherlocks surprise, appeared to not be breathing.

"That… was amazing" John said slowly, in awe.

"You think so? Thats not what most people say."

"What do most people say?"

"Piss off."


	4. Road trip

"So," John asked awkwardly "whats your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes" the man replied stiffly lifting a hand.

"John Watson" as they shook. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "ah, dull. Misjudged a man and it ended in a bad way. Thats all." He shifted a bit and pushed him self off the old couch and turned towards John. "Thanks… I suppose. That thing you did, that was uh… good." He gestured towards his bandaged side, still covered warmly by the stripped jumper. Without further interaction, he walked briskly towards the front door, as briskly as one could with a torn side.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"…Well I can't very well stay here."

John jumped off the couch and strode up to the taller man. "Well where ever you're going to go, you won't make it there fast with that side." Lifting up the soft fabric, he inspected the topic at hand and peeled off the bandage, earning a small squeal from the injured man. "Baby…" John muttered as a small smile slide stealthily onto his face, glancing at Sherlock. Who in turn looked away, irritation in his eyes but an almost unnoticeable smirk on his lips. "This would be much easier if you would lay down and stay still," John complained.

Sherlock sighed a bit over dramatically and lowered his body onto a neighbouring couch, pushed against a covered window. John got to work quickly, and soon he hand the wound re-bandaged and taken care of.

"You might have a pretty interesting scar. I couldn't stitch it up so you'll have quite the story written on your side." He stroked the bandages lightly and caught Sherlocks eye, looking at him with an eyebrow raised and a hint of accusation in his pale eyes. "Do you… would you want a ride? I mean, because I have a car out front… uh and, well…" _Whats wrong with you John? You've never stuttered once in your life! Get yourself together! _

Sherlock simply smirk and dragged himself off the couch and walked over to the front door, letting himself out. John was left in a bit of shocked state and what just happened and hurried to pick up his things, throwing them hazardously into his pack and running after the strange young man.

o(0)o

Sherlock was seated comfortably in the passenger side, ridiculously long legs stretched out in front of him as he reclined the seat and lay back. His eyes were closed but he could feel John nervous glances towards him. What an absurd man, to think he needed to start up a conversation when Sherlock was comfortable in the peace and quiet, with only the wheel against the road to lull him into a sort of sleep.

John cleared his throat and Sherlock opened his eyes to look at him expectantly, hoping that soon this man would see him as a freak like everyone else. When he realized that John was serious about giving him a ride, Sherlocks painful mind began running over the possibility of friendship with this man. Something he had never really experienced. He quickly banished the thought from his head and told himself that it was only a matter of time until John saw what everyone else did and tossed him on arse. The thought hurt a bit, but he reminded himself that he was a high functioning sociopath and he did get hurt or upset by such trivial things… he didn't. _Did he? _

"…So, did you have a girlfriend before all this happened…?" The blond asked nervously, unsure of where the conversation was going, only wanting to end the insufferable silence that had fallen between them.

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

"Oh, boyfriend then? Which is fine by the way.."

What was john getting at? Sherlock could think of hundreds of other potential topics for conversation starters and none involved interest in the others love life. "Listen John… I consider myself married to my studies, and as much as that is irrelevant now, i'd rather not involve myself with someone at this moment… or ever to be exact."

"No! No, thats not what I meant! I… ugh…"

"I wouldn't have taken you for someone who's so unsure of himself, John"

John shuddered a bit at the sound of his name cloaked in that velvet voice. "Neither would I" he mumbled.

Sherlock sniggered and closed his eyes once again, slowly drifting off into what surprised him to be a peaceful sleep.

o(0)o

_"Sherlock? …Sherlock!" _

Sherlock jolted awake and nearly hit his forehead on the car roof. The car wasn't moving anymore and John was looking at him strangely.

"Morning sleeping beauty," John said with a small smirk.

"Don't be an idiot, its evening…" murmured Sherlock, rubbing sleep from his grey eyes. He looked out the front window and he squinted against the evening sun to observe his surroundings.

They were parked in was appeared to be an old village, no signs were placed that could indicated their location. Short brick houses stood sturdy on picket fenced off yards, a few bikes were tipped over on their sides across the road. There was no one around, just messy black smears up against those perfect white fences and scrapes of memories spread out on the road. Sherlock noticed John was averting his eyes, even he -a soldier- was too disturbed by their presence. Even Sherlock winced a bit when he noticed a few smaller ones by a park, though he hide it well.

"So, do you want to get out here?" The blond asked awkwardly, glancing at the other.

"Might as well, I suppose I could stay here from a while and then take a car." Sherlock opened the car door and gingerly got out, mindful of his side. When out he glanced down at the comfortable jumper he still wore. John noticed and simply nodded. Before either could utter an awkward goodbye, Sherlock heard a familiar shout.

A/N:

Sorry, just a short chapter, super busy and stressed lately... hope you like it regardless. :) xx


	5. How it all starts

Sherlock was surprised to hear that voice, though surprised more at his blood running cold. Twisting his head he was met with none other than Sebastian Wilkes, the mans beady eyes blank as he stared Sherlock down.

"I thought I killed you." Wilkes sneered.

"You thought wrong" Sherlock answered, turning his body towards the business student. John in the meantime was standing on the drivers side of the vehicle, eyes darting between sherlock and the strange man. The man who had shouted was taller than John, with wild hair that was being whipped around by the dry evening wind. The blond continued to take in all he could of this new twist but his wary eyes kept darting towards the shiny pistol help at the side, finger on the trigger.

"And who's this?" Wilkes shouted, turning his attention to John.

"An associate of mine" replied Sherlock calmly.

"Friend, actually" interjected John, walking up beside Sherlock. Sherlock could only stare at John in shock. John in turn looked up at Sherlock, a glint in his eyes. _Ah _thought Sherlock _the adrenaline is kicking in_. He turned his sights back on the deranged man before them. Sebastian shuddered at the twin glare coming from the two young men in front of him. The wannabe detectives cold eyes cut through him and he shuddered as if hit by morning fog. The shorter blond mans eyes were deeper but certainly not empty. Sebastian could see deep seeded anger and a darkness shift within those dark blue eyes.

Defensively, Wilkes snorted an indignant "Yeah right" that left him stepping back a bit under the continuous double stare. "Holmes does have _friends, _don't let yourself get to close to the freak, you might catch something. Actually, you probably already have considering. You're just as much of a freak as he is. I may not be able to 'deduce' as the freak can but I can tell a monstrosity when I see one"

_Monstrosity? What is it with this nutter? _thought John, face not showing a drop of change from its cold stare. Sebastian was on the edge of his rope. He had showed up in a no name town after killing three people. He had hoped to find shelter and better transport but instead he found a very much alive Sherlock Holmes. Not what he had wanted. Not in the least. He was hungry, tired and fed up so to see that Holmes was not only alive and well, but had found a companion -no-_ friend, _and looked too smug about it.

Oh but no… Holmes didn't look smug anymore, he looked _livid. _It appears he doesn't like his blond puppy to be picked on. Smirking now, Sebastian continued.

"Is this your body guard Sherlly? Plan on going the whole 'human shield' tactic or do you honestly think this fool could help you?" Oh Sherlock was mad now, Sebastian didn't even know John, _he_ barely knew John. And yet this tiny man continued to heckle him.

Taking large steps, oblivious now to the pistol at Wilkes' side, Holmes stomped up to him and almost growled.

"Shut. Up." He hissed. At this Sebastian lifted a thick eyebrow at him, the pistol in his right hand lifting slowly as he stared down the younger man.

"Make me" Seb whispered back, getting close to Sherlock and looking him dead in the eye, the mouth of the pistol brushing against the loose jumper John had gave him, poking Sherlock in the gut.

The crack of the shot rang long on the evening tone. No one moved for what felt like hours as Sherlocks eyes widened at the man in front of him. Wilkes was staring over Holmes shoulder at the soldier, legs spread apart in a shooters stance, an L9A1 pointed past Sherlock directly at Wilkes not for long as the man crumpled to his knees, eyes never leaving the deep blue eyes of John Watson as a small hole in his front slowly weeps red tears. The glare continues as his body spasms once and his form falls forward at Sherlocks feet.

Sherlock turns to John, mouth split open to ask or say but for once, he can't think, he simply stares at this wonderfully surprising blond.

"I didn't know you had a gun"

"Neither did he I suppose…" Sherlocks lips twitch and he can't help himself, he lets out a breathless giggle and covers his eyes with his hands. Seeing this John lowers the gun and lets out a laugh of his own. "Sherlock we can't giggle, I just killed someone!" John hisses playfully

"I know, why did you?"

John doesn't answer, only looks up from the gun in his hand at the crazy friend he's just made. He really doesn't know, he just killed a man for him and he doesn't feel any guilt, then again the man he killed was a right git. Shaking his head at the daft brunette he plainly smiles and starts to walk back to the car, getting in and starting it.

Sherlock understands, neither of them know and thats the end of it. Somethings just don't have a reason, or at least they don't have an obvious one.

Pulling self consciously on the comfortable jumper, the science student waits to hear the crunch of tire on ground as John pulled away, but to his astonishment, it never came. Looking up he saw John staring at him expectantly from the drivers seat.

"Well, are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?" He called out from the car.

Sherlock grinned so hard he felt his cheeks burn as he scrambled into the car and turned to the soldier, who in turn was looking back. John gave a quick lick of his lips and shook his head, turning towards the setting sun.

"Where to?" He asked.

"Anywhere."


End file.
